


Fall To Ruin

by casey-bee (vands88)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Depression, Episode: s03e01 The Empty Hearse, F/M, Gen, Minisode: Many Happy Returns, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 04:24:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vands88/pseuds/casey-bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>what ever happened to Sally Donovan?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fall To Ruin

**Author's Note:**

> I just desperately needed a headcanon for what happened to Sally. Not beta'd and probably riddled with mistakes as this is just a translation of FEELS to words. (seriously this took me less than an hour so be nice)

Sally Donovan and Philip Anderson had never been in what one would call a stable relationship, but nothing had sunk the ship quite like the fall of Sherlock Holmes. They had gone to Lestrade together but when they pulled Sherlock down from his pedestal in the most gruesome way there was no more “together” to be had.

Arguments upon arguments were had, and although the sex between had been cosmic in mindblowing magnitude, eventually even that wasn’t enough. A void grew between them until the chasm no longer resembled Sherlock Holmes but rather a deep pit of resentment for all that they were; Anderson’s guilt and Donovan’s pride and all the shades of selfishness between.

Anderson showing up at the police station with a scruffy beard and poster for his Sherlock fanclub was the last sight Donovan saw before she asked to be reassigned. Now she works in narcotics and he works on his conspiracy theories and Lestrade goes between them like the child of a divorce.

Donovan can’t quite match Lestrade’s description of a desperate homeless-looking madman with the neat perfectionist she once knew. But Anderson had always been focused and obsessed with detail, it was why he had become a forensic, and so perhaps it isn’t so absurd that his drive for evidence has led him to madness. On good days, Donovan can convince herself that that is all it is; that Anderson just wants to find the right answer, that it is not guilt for Sherlock’s death at all, but only a policeman’s drive to discover the truth. But that’s bullshit. Guilt is the only reason why men like Anderson grow beards. Just as pride is the only reason why women like Donovan fall.

The higher you are, the further you fall. It’s simple science. Donovan had always been so sure of Sherlock’s psychopathic tendencies, the signs were all there, and the evidence before his death was altogether damning. She had seen life sentences given on less. But then Sherlock died.

Donovan couldn’t sleep. She watched guilt eat at Anderson in a way that scared her and a ruthless anger rattled her bones until the doctor conceded and gave her pills that stopped her feelings completely. Anderson went away, Donovan could finally sleep, and life went on without living.

Now, years later, evidence arises that clears Sherlock’s name.  Donovan changes her medication and stops watching television and ensures that even Lestrade’s visits are infrequent and immaterial.

The death of Sherlock Holmes may have driven Anderson mad, but it has collapsed Donovan to ruin. Impassive and alone, Donovan is taunted by the numbness of daily triviality, and struggles to remember the names of the men that led her to this ruin.  


End file.
